


Fantasy 8.13 The Things We Let In

by UprightIguana, westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UprightIguana/pseuds/UprightIguana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Old, painful memories arise after another violent overseas adventure.





	Fantasy 8.13 The Things We Let In

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

EPISODE 8.13 - Written by Shan

THE THINGS WE LET IN

TEASER

EXT. TARMAC @ ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE, 10:53 P.M.

"What time is it?" Josh asked as he paced back toward the president, who leaned against his parked limousine.

"It is about four minutes later than the last time you asked me, Josh. Do you remember what happened then?"

"You told me not to ask you again."

"There comes a time in a man's life, Josh, when he needs to get himself a watch."

"I've got one; it's just not all that reliable." He pivoted on the balls of his feet and stared at the dark horizon. "They should be here by now."

"Not yet." Santos snuck another glance at his watch while Josh's back was turned.

Josh signaled one of the president's guards. "Will you call the tower and get an updated ETA on the first lady's flight?"

"Everything's fine," Santos said, sounding put upon, but allowing the guard to complete Josh's order.

"They're on final approach, sir," the guard said after listening to his radio.

Santos' nerves got the better of him then, and he pushed himself away from the car, scanning the horizon with a trained eye. "Finally."

Josh spun slowly. "I don't see..."

"There she is," Santos put a hand on Josh's shoulder and turned him in the right direction. "Those are her running lights."

The next few minutes were spent silently watching the lights grow larger until the shadow in the distance became recognizable as the silhouette of a 747 against the night sky, and the engines' rumblings filled the ears of everyone on the ground. The plane touched down with picture-perfect precision, and Josh didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath until he exhaled.

The plane taxied toward their location slowly, and the stairs were rolled in to place. As soon as the door opened and Helen Santos appeared at the top, the president lost his resolve to stay put and took the steps three at a time, meeting her halfway.

Helen buried her face in her husband's shoulder as he picked her up in a bear hug. "How ya doin'?"

"Good," she sighed, pulling back to give him a quick kiss and rest her forehead against his. "Now I'm good."

Her husband wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Don't start," he whispered. "I'm hanging on by a thin thread as it is."

"I know, I can't; Donna and Annabeth don't want me to look splotchy on camera." Helen blinked her tears back.

"Well, there aren't gonna be any cameras tonight," Santos said as the rest of the group approached.

"No press?" Annabeth peered down at the sparsely populated tarmac.

"Lou's idea," Santos smiled, before giving Annabeth a friendly hug. "Everybody OK?"

"I don't think we're too much worse for wear, Mr. President," Vinick said from behind Annabeth.

"Arnie," Santos shook his hand. "You *look* a little worse for wear."

"It's nothing a hot shower and a good meal won't fix, Mr. President," Vinick smiled tiredly.

"Jeff," the president shook Dr. Perez's hand. "Good to see you."

"I was glad to be able to hitch a ride," Perez smiled.

Santos cast his eyes toward Donna, who stood transfixed as she stared at a frozen, gaping Josh at the base of the stairs. The president looked between them, then clapped Donna's shoulder gently. "The wait's been driving him crazy, Chickenfighter," he said softly, so Josh couldn't hear. "Don't make him wait any more."

Donna didn't say a word, didn't even look over at the president, but the next moment she began to descend the staircase in slow, measured steps.

He thought he'd have to force himself not to barrel straight through the president and first lady when he saw her, but as it turned out, the second he caught sight of her, he lost the ability to move. She took his breath away. Two continents worth of grime, slumped with fatigue, clothes so wrinkled it looked like she'd pulled them out of the hamper and put them on, and she took his breath away.

She stopped when she reached the bottom step, only inches from him, her eyes never having left his. They stared at each other, studied each other, before Donna finally smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hey," he breathed, on a relieved half-grin.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, unsure what to say next. The air was too thick, the moment too heavy, and even without the presence of the news cameras, they were both holding on by their fingernails, hoping to avoid a scene.

"That's so damned touching I could weep like a little girl," Santos teased lightly as he descended the steps with his arm around his wife, who shot him a chastising look.

Annabeth followed close behind, her brow furrowed. "*No* press?"

"Not tonight," Santos replied in a sing-song tone, taking his wife by the hand. "Okay, everybody's got cars waiting for them. And hey, come in a little late tomorrow," he winked.

"Late?" Helen snorted. "I don't want to see either of you at work tomorrow."

That finally caused Donna to break her eye contact with Josh. "No, ma'am, we'll need to rework the remarks we wrote on the plane, and you'll give a press statement at some point tomorrow--"

"Not to mention that my office is going to be overrun with interview requests -- " Annabeth jumped in.

Santos read the growing impatience on Josh's face, and it mirrored his own. "This is an argument we'll continue after the sun rises. Everybody go home. Doc, you're with us." He turned and caught Vinick's eye. "I want to sit down with you first thing in the morning."

Vinick nodded. "You got it."

Helen wrapped an arm around her husband's waist and leaned against him as they walked toward the waiting limo, Dr. Perez in tow. Josh placed his hand on the small of Donna's back and wordlessly steered her toward his waiting car. Annabeth and Vinick both turned to walk toward their waiting vehicles.

"No press," Annabeth sighed.

"Disappointed?" Vinick asked.

"A little, to be honest. I…that's who I was expecting to be waiting on me. That's always who's waiting on me."

Vinick cocked his head to the side as they walked. "Nobody's waiting on me."

"You have a staff."

"And look how they all turned out to greet me," Vinick opened his arms to the empty space before him.

"You told them no one needed to meet you when we landed. On the phone, when you called from the plane. I heard you."

Vinick waved the notion away. "I don't need a big emotional scene."

Annabeth turned, watching as a rapt Josh opened the door for Donna, and she began to climb into the car. "Yeah, that's overrated," she said, her sarcastic tone laced with wistfulness. "I'm just used to having work, I guess. I don't know what to do with myself."

"I used to feel that way," Vinick said, almost to himself.

"But not anymore," she guessed.

"Not usually, no."

"So," Annabeth stopped as she reached her car. "What do you do in moments like this, Mr. Secretary?"

"I was gonna have a drink," Vinick said, continuing toward his own waiting driver. "Maybe a little late dinner."

Annabeth frowned as she watched him go. "Oh."

Vinick glanced at her over his shoulder. "I owe you, if I recall correctly, one invitation to dinner. That was it. Are you coming, or are you going to keep me in your debt?"

"You can go," Annabeth said absently to her driver as she followed.

CUT TO: INT. JOSH'S CAR

He'd gotten in the car after her, but the second the door closed, he had her in his arms, and they buried their faces in each other's shoulders, fighting tears as Rodney got behind the wheel and began the drive home.

He pressed his face against the side of her neck and she squeezed his shoulders a little tighter, lifting her uninjured hand to run her fingers through his hair. They rode like that for several minutes, in silence, before Donna's worry got the better of her. "You OK?"

He laughed softly, then lifted his head and kissed her gently before pulling back and brushing her hair from her face. "I'm good," he smiled at her with bright eyes. "Now I'm good."

SMASHCUT TO TITLES

ACT 1

INT. BATHROOM, JOSH AND DONNA'S APARTMENT

Donna lifted her wrist out of the water and turned it over gingerly. It had turned an unappealing rainbow of black, blue, and brown since they'd wrapped it at the embassy. When she'd removed the ACE bandage, the pain had begun anew, but the warm water started it throbbing with a vengeance.

She dropped her hand back beneath the suds as the door opened. She just…didn't feel like dealing with it tonight. She'd tell him tomorrow. I mean, of course. She'd have to tell him tomorrow. Just not tonight.

"Here we go," Josh said as he closed the door behind him and handed her a glass of white wine. She took it with her right hand and have him a languid smile as she slid deeper into the suds. He cocked his head at her. "Feeling better?"

"I told you it was nothing a hot bath wouldn't fix," she took a sip from the wine glass and set it on the tile floor. "I feel almost perfect."

Josh sat on the side of the tub and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "Almost?"

She grinned coyly at him. "Are you comin' in here or not?"

A genuine smile split his face, and he scooped his hand into the water, then smeared a clump of suds on her nose. "I'll smell all girly."

"You love it, and you know it."

He sighed heavily, pretending to be put upon. "I think you take advantage of my deep and abiding love for you and your perfect, soft skin."

"Mmm," Donna leaned her head back against the wall and reached for the wine glass. "That sounds like a personal problem to me. Strip."

'Don't have to tell me twice," Josh muttered as he wriggled out of his shirt.

CUT TO: INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE, SAME TIME

"You have got to be kidding me," Perez stood in the doorway, gaping.

"I'm not," Santos clapped him on the shoulder. "Good night."

Perez stepped into the room and spun slowly in a circle. "It's just…when you said, 'Have you ever spent the night in the Lincoln Bedroom?' I sorta thought it was a joke."

"It was," Santos grinned. "Mostly. Good night, Jeff."

INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE HALLWAY, CONTINUOUS

Matt came up behind Helen and planted a kiss on her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Decided not to wake them, huh?" he whispered.

"I was still deciding," a teary-eyed Helen said as she watched her kids sleeping like angels in their adjacent rooms.

"You're back more than a day ahead of schedule. Let them find out when they wake up in the morning."

Helen sniffled a little. "What did you tell them?"

Matt pulled her along by the hand toward their bedroom. "Nothing. I didn't want to upset them until we knew for sure something had happened, and by the time we knew you were alright, there didn't seem to be much point. Just have it be a surprise tomorrow you're home early. There's no need to frighten them."

INT. MATT AND HELEN'S BEDROOM, CONTINUOUS

Helen closed the door and leaned against it, lost in thought. "I suppose."

Matt unbuttoned his dress shirt and shrugged out of it while Helen stared into space. "You OK?"

She blinked, then reached down to pull off her shoes. "Yeah, I'm just exhausted."

"Yeah," He undid his belt and whipped it through the belt loops, dropping it on the floor with his shirt. "Yeah, me too. Can I have your undivided attention for a minute, though?"

She cocked her head at him in interest, an amused smile playing across her face.

"For whatever it was we were fighting about, a million years ago when you left for the trip--"

"Matt--"

"And the many grievous mistakes I am sure I made that led us to the point--"

"Matt--"

"And the many, MANY little things I don't even realize I did that just made it worse --"

"Matt!"

He grinned at her. "Sorry."

She chortled. "You were doing so well, and then you just blurted out the end."

"I felt rushed." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

"We broke a rule, didn't we?" She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He nodded. "We parted ways angry."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Let's never do that again."

He tightened his arms around her. "When we couldn't get any information on your location, all I could think about was that the last time we saw each other, we were –"

"I know. Me too."

He squeezed her even tighter and closed his eyes. "If something had happened to you after I--"

"Matt," she leaned back a little to look at him. "Let's not play the 'what-if' game tonight." A gentle kiss, on just the right spot on his neck, set him grinning.

"What do you suggest we do instead?"

"Well," Helen pretended to muse. "We had a fight, and I've been gone…I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think you're overdue for a proper welcome home." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

CUT TO: INT. SAM & HARRY'S, SAME TIME

Annabeth watched with fascination, chin propped in her hand, as Arnold Vinick made quick work of his medium rare t-bone. "I think this is more than a little odd."

Vinick regarded her cautiously. "That when I get hungry I like to eat?"

"That we just had that Alice-in-Wonderland adventure, and here you sit, eating a steak like it's any regular Tuesday."

Vinick stopped chewing. "It is a regular Tuesday."

"Hogwash." Annabeth pushed her nearly untouched plate away and leaned toward him, despite the deserted dining room that minimized the chances of their conversation being overheard. "What you have experienced in the last 24 hours is nothing short of remarkable. You were standing right next to the President of Amiir during his attempted assassination, you were hurt in the scuffle, there was that gauntlet to get to the embassy and then we were stuck there, waiting for some way to get out."

Vinick waved the words away with his hand. "It was a tough day at the office. Tomorrow we'll try again."

Annabeth cocked her head. "I just didn't take you to be one for such bravado."

"Not bravado," Vinick shook his head and put his fork down. "The president asked me to go to Amiir and do a job. I did. We pulled it off, just barely. We'll be spending the next few days trying to make sure it sails. When you sign up to be a public servant, you don't stand around waiting for someone to say thank you. And you don't take a bow and a victory lap. It can never be about the glory. Serving the president, serving your country is an honor. I'll take time to think about how hard it was when I stop to write my memoirs."

"You sound like Leo," Annabeth blurted.

Vinick cut another piece of meat from the bone. "That's a compliment."

Annabeth's surprise continued to grow. "Really?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked around a bite of steak. "Because I'm one of the big bad Republicans?"

"I just didn't think--"

"I knew Leo for…God, close to 30 years? We stood together on some issues, toe-to-toe on others. But he always fought honorably, he always owned his mistakes, and whether or not our ideologies lined up…Leo McGarry epitomized what a public servant should be. Hardworking, tireless, unstoppable…and always humble."

Annabeth hung her head, folding her napkin nervously in her lap. "Not so unstoppable, as it turns out." An unbidden sting hurt her eyes.

Vinick nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose not."

"It's been…God, it's been almost a year. And it still feels like…I can still see it like it was tonight."

Vinick leaned back in his seat. "You were the one, weren't you? News reports said a campaign staffer discovered him. You were his press wrangler for most of the campaign." He watched her fidget in her seat. "It was you."

Annabeth nodded, then took a steadying breath. "It was me. I was the one. The one who found him, the one who rode in the ambulance, the one the doctors told. The one who had to tell Josh." She sniffed suddenly, blinking rapidly to dissipate the gathering tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Seeing a thing like that changes a person. Forever." Vinick said. "When my wife…it was months before I could think of her without remembering those last weeks in the hospital. Those last few days, waiting for the final shoe to drop. The hell that was her last few moments." He fell silent, staring at a spot on the far wall. "But eventually, you realize that the end of a person's life is just that, and that's not the part you should spend your time remembering. And you start to think about the other things."

Annabeth smiled sympathetically. "He wasn't my husband."

"That doesn't matter," Vinick said gently. "Leo McGarry spent a lifetime serving his country, in the military, in politics, in the Cabinet, in the White House…it seems a shame that anyone who knew him well should remember him in some hotel room in Texas. Or in a hospital."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "It does."

"So…" Vinick turned his attention back to his plate. "You get up in the morning, and you do the job you were hired to do, whether or not it was the job you thought you wanted. And you don't stop to think too much about it. In this town…it can overwhelm you. Indulgent thoughts like that can eat you whole. Do you think Lincoln ever sat back and said, 'My God, look at what I'm trying to do here?' He just hoped like hell he could pull it off. If there are people who think I'm doing great things, let them talk about it when I'm not around to be bored by the conversation."

Annabeth smiled. "So you're saying I should just get over myself and go to bed so I can get a fresh start in the morning."

"Exactly. But eat first." He pointed at her plate with his fork. "Humble or not, occasionally a nice perk comes your way, like Mario keeping the dining room open a little late for you. That kind of glory, you accept with open arms."

Annabeth smiled as she picked up her fork. **So much like Leo**, she thought.

CUT TO: INT. BATHROOM, JOSH & DONNA'S APARTMENT

"So, this bigger place we mentioned earlier," Josh mumbled against her shoulder.

"Mmm," Donna acknowledged, half-asleep as she leaned back against his chest in the warm water. "No energy for heavy stuff right now."

"No, I'm just saying, we need to make sure we get one with a bigger tub," he whispered.

She smiled. "I like those antique claw-foot tubs."

He ran his hand up her arms to her shoulders, dropping a kiss there before letting his hands slide back to her elbows. "You can't take showers in those."

"They make a special thing," she sighed, his gentle caresses lulling her closer and closer to sleep. He ran his fingers along her forearms, then back to her elbows.

"A thing so you can take showers in a claw-foot tub?"

"An attachment."

Josh frowned. "I think I'd have to see it." He ran his hands down her arms again. "Maybe we can get one with a separate shower instead." He let go of her arms and reached for her hands underwater. "But we have definitely got to do this more often." He laid his chin on her shoulder. "I'm glad to have you home." He laced the fingers of both hands through hers squeezed.

Donna scared him half to death when she yelped and shot straight up in the tub, splashing water over the side as she cradled her left wrist to her chest.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said through gritted teeth. "It's a little sore."

"I hurt it?" he reached for her hand, which she pulled away from him.

"No." She huffed, frustrated that her cover was blown. "I kind of banged it up a little on the car ride to the embassy. It's just a little sore."

"Let me see."

"It's fine, Josh, it's just--"

"Let me see it, please." He tugged gently on her forearm, and she finally released her hold on her throbbing wrist. "It looks worse than it is."

He turned her hand toward the light. Her pale skin was mottled with a bluish-purple bruise, and a sizeable knot had formed on the outside of her wrist. "Oh, my God, Donna."

"Josh, it's really not--"

"Can you move your fingers?"

She wiggled them gently. "It's more when I twist--" she hissed as she tried to demonstrate.

Josh slid out of the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. "You need to get that looked at."

"I did."

"When?"

"At the embassy," she said. "Dr. Perez said he thinks it's just a bad sprain."

"That doesn't look like a sprain, Donna." He leaned over her wrist for another close look. "That looks broken."

"I don't think it's broken, Josh, I just haven't been…I was supposed to be icing it, and I got off schedule with it. I'm sure that's why it's so tender."

"You need to get it looked at again," he said. "I'm gonna tell Rodney to--"

She caught his hand in her uninjured one. "Josh, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But right now, I'm exhausted, and I just wanna go to bed. I don't want you to overreact to this."

"I don't overreact to things," he snapped, then pulled out of her grasp and left the room.

CUT TO: INT. GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM

"I don't overreact to things," Donna mimicked as she swung her feet idly from the gurney.

"I don't," he said flatly from his corner in the tiny curtained exam area.

"They cleared the entrance and put me directly back here," Donna said.

"That was because of me. It was either take us back immediately or clear the waiting room for the Secret Service to maintain their precious protocols."

"It was *all* because of you," she snapped. "I don't even want to be here."

"I care about your welfare," he said hollowly. "Forgive me."

Donna looked down at the icepack on her wrist "Thank you," she said. That got him to look at her. "Really. But it isn't a big deal. So I didn't want to **make** a big deal."

"So much so that you neglected to even mention it."

"It just hadn't come up yet," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the equipment around him. "How did it happen?" he asked after more than a minute of silence.

"The car ride to the embassy, I told you."

"The Secret Service did this?" he demanded, voice rising.

"Of course the Secret Service didn't do this, don't go on a rampage," she placated. "It was kind of a wild ride, I slid out of my seatbelt for a minute to grab my purse, we hit a bump, and I went wrist-first into the car door."

"Why the hell were you out of your seatbelt?"

"Because I'm not that bright, Josh!"

That brought him up short. "All I'm saying is it was dangerous, Donna. You need to be more careful."

"I'm careful," she sighed.

"**More** careful, I'm saying. Can't be too sure." He flashed his dimples at her for good measure, and she remained silent, but pouted.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I mean once you got home tonight. You never said a word."

"You know why I didn't tell you?"

"I'm asking."

"Because you overreact--"

"I don't overreact to things. They took x-rays; I did not overreact to this." His anger flared anew, and he began pacing the length of the small space, keeping his back to her.

The doctor broke the awkward silence a few minutes later when he re-entered with Donna's x-rays. "I was suspicious when I saw that knot," he said as he put the film on the light panel. "See? Right there. You've got a little hairline fracture."

"Really?" Donna squeaked. Josh came back to her side and stared at the picture.

"Wrist fractures are pretty common in a fall like you described, and they're often misdiagnosed in the beginning as bad sprains. Yours is very mild. I'm not even going to cast it. I want to do a couple weeks in a removable brace and see how it heals. I'll refer you to an orthopedist for a follow-up."

CUT TO: EXT. GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, NIGHT

"So, what was it you were saying about me overreacting to things?" Josh said as Rodney led them to the car.

Donna gave him a look that told him he'd be better off not pushing the subject. "We'll go home and get another ice pack on it," he said. "I'm sure it hurts."

"It doesn't hurt," she said reflexively as she climbed in the car, but was surprised by his bark of a laugh. "What?"

"It just makes me wonder," he said bitterly, "what else you lie to me about."

ACT 2

INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE, EARLY MORNING

"You should have seen them, Matt," Helen called from the bathroom.

"I'm sure it was heartbreaking, darling," Santos called as he knotted his tie in the mirror. "But the press focus is going to continue be on the assassination attempt. We're going to have a hard enough time turning them back toward the skin-of-our-teeth accomplishment in Amiir, much less what you saw at the clinics."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but there are more than a couple reporters around here," Helen walked out of the bathroom and began rummaging in her jewelry box for a pair of earrings. "Some of them can have your side of the story, and maybe some will be interested in mine."

"Hey, how many pet causes are you gonna have?" Santos crossed the room and stood close behind her. "You were hell-bent on computers in classrooms before--"

"It's still a very worthy initiative, but…Matt," she turned to face him. "If you'd seen them, seen what I saw, you'd understand. Jeff, and the doctors he's working with, they're doing amazing work with what they've got, but what they've got is shameful. The resources we could offer could make a life-changing difference NOW, TODAY. A little publicity would be all he'd need to get the ball rolling." She slid her arms around his waist. "Will you meet with him before he leaves?"

"Helen," he whined. "I've got debriefings on the mission today, in addition to the 2,100 things I normally have to try to get accomplished--"

"Fifteen minutes?" she gave him a peck on the lips. "That should be long enough for a man of your *considerable* talents to get a grasp on the situation."

He grinned. "Boy, am I screwed if you ever decide to take an interest in more aggressive measures, like dissolving our trade agreements." He kissed her to seal the deal. "Call Ronna, have her put it on my calendar." 

"Thank you." She turned back to the mirror, and Santos went to retrieve his cooling cup of coffee from the table. Helen shuddered a little as she fastened the clasp of her necklace. "I just can't get over those children. There was this one little boy; he must have been about Peter's age--"

"Peter!" Santos nearly choked on his coffee. "Oh, my God, I completely forgot."

"They're not due to be up for another 20 minutes," Helen said. :"But I was thinking of waking them now--"

"No, I…Josh told me, while you were gone, right before everything went haywire, Peter's teacher said something at his parent-teacher conference."

Helen turned from her reflection. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't know…she had some concerns, said he keeps kicking his desk."

Helen furrowed her brow. "He's never really been the disruptive type."

"I didn't get the impression that's what it was, it wasn't frustration, it was more concern that--"

"Did you say *Josh* told you?"

Santos' eyes went wide. "Did I?"

"What does *Josh* have to do with--"

"Okay…alright, I'm just gonna…Helen, if I'm ever in a position where I can't take a meeting, Josh is the guy who--"

"You sent your *chief of staff* to a parent-teacher conference?"

"Helen, I had--"

"Oh, that's just brilliant!" she erupted.

"Now hang on a minute, you make it sound like--"

"The one thing I asked you to do while I was away!"

"Well, I'm sorry about that, honey, but the American people had a few things they asked me to do too, and--"

"Why don't I just get Donna to go to Miranda's dance recitals from here on out?" Helen shrugged into her jacket. "Or have Annabeth review and sign their report cards?"

"Helen, the thing with the embassy happened, and then I was more focused on getting you home…it slipped my mind for a few hours, was all."

"Don't worry about it," Helen drawled sarcastically. "You've got a country to run. I'll follow up with Peter's teacher and take care of the pesky business of raising the kids."

She left Matt standing in the middle of the room. "Yeah," he sighed to himself. "It's gonna be a great day."

CUT TO: JOSH & DONNA'S APARTMENT, SAME TIME

Josh knocked on the bathroom door hesitantly, his peace offering cooling in his hand.

"Yeah?" she called from the other side.

"You alright in there?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're just taking kind of a long…" He looked down and toed the carpet. "No reason." He turned to leave just as the door opened to reveal a meek Donna in her bra.

"I can't fasten the clasp," she said sheepishly, holding up the wrist encased in her new brace. "I don't know how in the world anyone's expected to…" She breathed out slowly. "I need a little help."

"You wanna tell me to sit down before you say that kind of thing."

"You don't get to make jokes yet."

He held out a cup of coffee. "This is for you. Turn around."

She complied, watching his reflection in the mirror as he fastened the clasp behind her back. "That may be the first time in my life I've ever put one of those on."

"I wasn't sure if you knew they worked both ways," Donna said into her coffee mug.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

"So, I just wanted to let you know…" Josh said, carefully watching her face in the mirror as he proceeded. "I've done a little research on the matter, and it turns out, sometimes I overreact to things." Her face softened. "In fact, I'm pretty sure last night I got full of myself and called you a liar. Classic overreaction."

She set her coffee on the counter and turned, wrapping her arms around his torso. "It was a sin of omission. I was going to tell you later, but I just…I don't know what I was doing. It was wrong of me. But I don't lie to you. Not ever."

"I know. I got a little…emotions were running a little high, and…You're so strong, I know it doesn't even faze you, but…Donna, this kind of thing brings back memories for me I'd rather not--"

She leaned up and kissed him, taking her time with it. "Apology accepted." He captured her lips again. "You, too," he mumbled. His hands quickly worked their way back to the clasp of her bra.

"Josh--"

"I promise I'll help you put it back on later," he mumbled against her neck.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "Damn."

"That's what I thought."

"Do you have any idea the kind of frenzy I worked myself into going days without…and then you came home, and we didn't even--"

"Don't talk to me about the wait. It can get awfully lonely in the wilds of Africa." She smiled coyly. "With nothing to think about but you." She kissed him soundly. "I need to get dressed."

"This is gonna be a long day," he whined to his reflection.

CUT TO: INT. DONNA'S OFFICE, LATER THAT MORNING

"I used to think maybe you loved me, now, baby I'm sure," Annabeth sang to herself.

"You must stop that now," Donna muttered, slumped in her chair.

"And I just can't wait 'til the day you come knock on my door," Annabeth dropped into the guest chair with a sarcastic smile.

"If I promise I'm never going to come knock, will you stop singing?"

Annabeth cocked her head at Donna for a moment. "Now every time I go for the mailbox -"

"I could fire you, you know," Donna grinned.

"I'm perky; I can't help it. I was born this way."

"How can you be perky after all that? I could have slept for a week."

"Oh, I'm exhausted, I'm just still perky."

"Annoyingly so."

"Speaking of which, did the first lady sleep in?"

"She won't be in this morning, something about a meeting with one of Peter's teachers," Donna sighed. "We'll have to move the news conference to this afternoon. Do you think there's any way you could casually bring up the concept of news cycle and the limited attention of reporters in front of her?"

"So she'll be annoyed at me instead of you?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"It's a lesson I'm re-learning myself this morning. I've got crickets chirping in my office."

Donna looked up from fiddling with the Velcro on her brace. "Not many calls?"

"Not any."

"None?" Donna sat forward in her chair.

Annabeth shook her head. "The angle's all about the assassination attempt. The wire stories don't even get around to mentioning the First Lady was in the country until below the fifth graf."

"Okay," Donna blew her bangs out of her eyes. "They're gonna spend this news cycle on that angle. Let's work to pick up the next one with the eventful conclusion of her first trip abroad and what she plans to do about what she saw at the clinic. You work the press, I'll start rewriting her statement for when she finally comes in."

"Got it." Annabeth stood, then noticed Donna's new brace. "Hey, that's new. Was it worse than we thought?"

Donna chewed her lip for a moment. "It's fine. I've just got to wear it for a couple of weeks. It feels better than the ACE bandage."

CUT TO: INT. OVAL OFFICE

"They're talking about Heile; they're still just talking about the assassination attempt on Heile," Santos said. "I want them talking about the base."

"The assassination attempt owns the news cycle," Lou said. "But only for a few more hours. We can be in tomorrow's papers and on tonight's newscasts with the base."

"How can we turn it that quickly?" Josh asked.

"Vinick was there," Sam supplied. "The press bounces off these things like light off a mirror. When the president -- President Bartlet -- was shot, 12 hours later they had computer-generated models of the scene, complete with who was standing where, and how one step to the right or left could have…" he trailed off, breaking his eyes from Josh's. "Anyway, there's a sort of morbid fascination with who else was in the line of fire. Vinick was there. That gives us an easy segue."

"I'm gonna drop in a few off-hand references to Vinick when I get questions about it," Lester said.

"And he'll hold his own briefing at the State Department. He'll give an eyewitness account, and then slide into the second, third, and fourth order benefits of the base," Lou said as Ronna slipped in and handed the president a note. "The positive economic impact, increased security in the Gulf."

"And we'll control the next news cycle?" Santos asked as he read the slip of paper.

"Yeah," Lou said. "And we'll book the Sunday shows."

"Great," the president snapped his folio closed and stood. "I've gotta go. Thanks, everybody." 

 

CUT TO: INT. CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"Take a look at Vinick's statement before he gives it, would you?" Josh said as Sam followed through the adjoining door. "Otto's probably going to work with his guy at State, but still, take a quick look."

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "How's Donna doing? I haven't had a chance to go over and see her yet."

"She has a hairline fracture in her wrist; we spent a few hours in the emergency room. And then we spent a few hours fighting about why she didn't tell me about it."

Sam's eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"It got a little out of hand, we both said some things, and called a truce this morning. We never actually answered the question. You know Donna. Everything's always fine. No matter what. The world can be falling apart around her, but everything's fine. Even in Germany, when she was so doped up she could barely hold her eyes open, she was trying to make a good show of telling me I should come back here and work."

Sam chortled. "That sounds like her." He lowered himself into a chair. "I'm sorry about the…the random Rosslyn reference, I was…"

"Oh," Josh waved the apology away with his hand. "Ancient history. With all that's happened, it's ancient history."

Sam held his gaze for a few beats.

"You know, he's working on the library."

Sam nodded. "I haven't heard from him in a few months."

"He feels it's important to do an exhibit marking the event. For better or worse, it was one of the defining events of his presidency. Actually, Zoey advocated for it. He wants to include some of the news coverage. He asked how I felt about it."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I'm sure I'd be fine with whatever he decided to do."

"And will you?"

Josh shrugged. "I don't really know what's out there. Computer simulations," he scoffed. "'This is where we believe Mr. Lyman was standing when…' That kind of thing?"

"Kind of," Sam said.

Josh looked at the desk for a moment. "Is there footage? Detailed, I mean?"

Sam shook his head. "The most graphic thing I ever saw was a shot from some distance where you can see paramedics working on someone. I didn't even realize it was you until I saw myself in the shot. But even if it were out there somewhere, Josh, he wouldn't use it. I'm sure he means some of CJ's briefings, general coverage, not gore."

"You were there?" Josh said. "Afterward? You were there?"

"Yeah," Sam said, taken aback. "You talked to me quite a bit, actually."

"I don't remember," he said. "I don't remember anything until the doctor bugging the living hell out of me in the recovery room. Then Donna was there, acting, once again, like everything was just fi- …"

"What?"

"I'll be damned," he said.

"What?"

"The Queen of Misdirection strikes again."

CUT TO: INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE, LIVING ROOM, SAME TIME

"I got your message," Santos said upon finding a pacing Helen. "What's going on?"

"I talked to Peter's teacher," Helen said, wringing her hands together. "She mentioned he kicks his desk and brought up the cough, too. That bug he's had for the last little while?"

"The sneezing thing?"

"The…yeah, kind of. I thought it was allergies."

"What does one have to do with the other?"

"She thinks they could be related. She thinks they could be a sign of something worse. Something developmental or neurological."

"Neurological?" Santos asked, concern lining his face.

"Jeff's in with him now," she said, sounding even more frazzled than she looked.

"He's home already?"

"I brought him home with me after the thing; I wanted to get him looked at."

"I don't understand what she's getting at, 'something neurological,'" Santos said, but the door to Peter's room opened before Helen could answer.

Helen crossed wrapped her arms around herself and turned to face him. "Well?"

"Well," Dr. Perez said, motioning for them to sit, a request they ignored. "I want to take him to a proper medical facility somewhere, run some tests."

"For what?" Santos asked.

"To rule out some things."

"Such as?"

"Such as head injury, allergic reaction, dozens of conditions--"

Helen shook her head. "You think it's something."

"I don't think anything yet."

Santos put his hands on his wife's shoulders while he watched the man he'd known for more than a decade. "Yes, you do."

"I like to test my hypotheses before I--"

"Jeff!" they pleaded in unison.

"I just did some preliminary screenings," Perez said. "It could be any one of a number of things at this point, that's why I need to do more tests. But it's not out of the realm of possibility…Peter does exhibit some symptoms of Tourette's Syndrome."

ACT 3

INT. DONNA'S OFFICE, MID-DAY

"Hey," Annabeth leaned in Donna's doorway. "I've got most of our regulars. How's the first lady's statement coming?"

Donna glared at the phone receiver in her hand. "It was coming along fine until we lost the first lady. Gretchen just called from the residence to say she's canceled her day."

Annabeth knit her brows together. "She can't. I've already sent out the advisory."

"What time did you schedule the press conference?"

"2 p.m. Arnie's giving a briefing at State; we'll get better turnout if we wait until after it's over."

Donna cocked and eyebrow at her. "Arnie?"

Annabeth's face showed momentary shock at the slip-up, but she recovered quickly. "Why did she cancel?"

"Gretchen was less than forthcoming." Donna tapped her pencil against her desk. "I'm going up there."

CUT TO: INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE, HALLWAY

"Hey," Josh said as he rounded the corner to find Donna headed toward him. "How ya doin'?"

"The first lady's canceled her day," Donna said flatly.

"I know," Josh lowered his voice. "Something's going on."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. He's taking meetings by phone at the moment and doesn't want to share. I can give him a couple hours, but then he's gotta come back down."

"I can't even give her that long. We've got a press conference scheduled this afternoon, and she hasn't been down yet today."

"What is she talking to them about?" Josh's brow furrowed.

"The trip to the clinic, what do you think?"

Josh shook his head. "Today's not the day for that. They're nuts on the Heile near-miss; we're having a hard enough time turning them back toward the base as it is. We need the news cycle to ourselves."

"You're not gonna lose the news cycle to this. It will be a sidebar to the base story."

"The base story's gonna be a sidebar to the assassination attempt," Josh said. "Ask them to zoom any wider on this and we'll lose column inches." His Blackberry chirped on his belt. "Damn, I gotta go," he muttered as he scrolled through the page. Since they were alone in the hallway, he allowed himself the luxury of a quick kiss. "How's your wrist?"

"Fine," Donna said distractedly.

Josh shook his head a little. "Of course it is," he whispered to himself. "Be careful in there…you could cut the tension with a knife."

CUT TO: INT. RESIDENCE BEDROOM

A knock on the door pulled the first lady from her reverie by the window. "Donna?"

"Good afternoon," Donna said from the doorway. "Gretchen called, I just wanted to come up and make sure everything was okay."

Helen gave her a you-don't-want-to-know look. "I've had better days."

"Can't be worse than yesterday." Donna forced a light tone.

Helen snorted. "It can be so much worse than..." her voice broke, and she let the sentence go. "Did you need something?"

Donna came a little closer. "I came to ask *you* that. Is everything OK?"

"Fine. I just need to take the day."

Donna arched an eyebrow. She wasn't going to let her off that easily. "Helen, we've got a press conference scheduled at 2. If at all possible, I need you to come down for that."

Helen waved the notion away. "The President's team is still trying to steer the press toward the base story; they're not gonna give us any time."

"Annabeth's working them."

"Donna…today's not the day, OK?"

"Helen, this is too important to--"

"My *family* is important," Helen snapped. "This can wait for as long as I damn well want it to!"

Donna couldn't keep her stunned look at bay.

Helen paced back to the window. "Something's wrong with Peter," she choked out. "All this time I was worried about the children in Amiir, the HPVvaccine, computers in classrooms. I should have been worried about my own son."

Donna unconsciously raised a hand to her chest. "What is it?"

"We don't know yet," she replied, never taking her eyes from the glass in front of her. "What do you know about Tourette's Syndrome?"

CUT TO: EXT. BULLFEATHERS RESTAURANT, MID-DAY

"That's it," Donna said as she took a drink of her ice water. "If he's got something permanent, something that won't go away, we're done. She's never gonna let him out of her sight again."

"Give her a break. She just needs a little time," Annabeth said as she skewered a bite of salad. "She'll bounce."

"She doesn't really bounce that well, I don't know if you've noticed. With the negative connotation this disease has in the mass media--"

"Lower your voice," Annabeth chided.

Donna waved her hand impatiently as she switched to a stage whisper. "With the negative connotation this disease has in the mass media, and her already-existent tendency to shield the kids anyway, we're never gonna see her out of the residence again."

"I'm glad you're not overreacting. It's a disease, Donna. Her kid could be sick. Let her figure out how to deal with the reality of that before we jump up and down on her about perception." Annabeth tossed a piece of bread to a particularly brave bird that was hopping along the sidewalk. "This was a

good idea. It's a beautiful day."

"OK, what the HELL is with you?"

Annabeth stopped chewing abruptly. "What?"

"What? You're smiling incessantly, you're feeding the animals, you're singing, you're walking on sunshine…"

"I'm just glad to be back!" Annabeth protested.

"What about Arnie?" Donna drawled.

Annabeth tucked her head down. "It's nothing. I just got to know him a little on this trip." She leaned forward. "Does he remind you a little of Leo?"

"Because…they're both male or--"

"Never mind."

"I'm kidding you." Donna laid a hand on her arm. "I guess…well, not that much, no. But if you see it, that's all that matters."

Annabeth tossed another piece of bread to the bird. "Why do I feel guilty for having dinner with a man?"

Donna nearly choked. "You had dinner?"

Annabeth looked pained.

"I mean that in a good way. Good for you. I was disappointed for you when the Cheese Day guy fizzled out after the mugging."

"God, what is the matter with me?" Annabeth moaned. "He wasn't my boyfriend, he wasn't my lover, he wasn't * *anything** that would warrant this kind of reaction. All this time has passed, and I can't keep myself from feeling positively guilt-riddled if I so much as take a passing notice in a man."

"You're not cheating on him, Annabeth," Donna said. "Even if he had been one of those things, you're not cheating on him. If wishing made it so, he'd be Vice President right now. But he's gone. It's been almost a year. If you're starting to take an interest in other men, then I'd say you're ready to come out of mourning. And he'd say, 'It's about damn time.' If he were here, he'd be the one pushing you toward whatever it was he thought would make you happy. You know that."

"I don't know if this *is* anything yet. He may be completely uninterested."

"Do you enjoy talking to him?"

Annabeth nodded. "Yes."

"Then keep doing it. Even if nothing else ever comes from it…you'd be surprised at the power of a one-sided crush. This will be good for you."

Annabeth leaned back in her chair, lost in thought.

"So..." Donna leaned forward conspiratorially. "Explain the older man thing to me."

Annabeth gave her a look. "I don't think I have to."

CUT TO: EXT. NATIONAL MALL

"Isn't this nicer than taking the metro?" Annabeth swung her purse from one hand. "We should do this more often."

"Well, it's not like we're gonna have anything else to do," Donna pouted.

"Okay." Annabeth started to sound a little annoyed. "I'm willing to accept that I'm in a ridiculously good mood today, but what the hell is with *you*? Someone certainly licked the red off your lollipop, and I can't believe that it's the first lady. If ever there was a valid excuse, she's got one."

Donna kicked a stone in her path, not caring that it scuffed her shoe. "I'm fine. I'm just dreading the prospect of losing what ground we've gained. You remember what it was like to get her out there and actively working an agenda."

"I swear to you, I just think she needs a little time."

"I wish I had it to give her. But we've got a limited window to get some press attention for this. They're not gonna wait forever."

Annabeth snapped her fingers. "Don't let me forget to cancel the press conference when we get back."

"You didn't do it yet?"

"Not yet."

Donna walked another few steps. "Keep it. Keep it and send out an update. I'll brief at 2."

Annabeth cocked her head in surprise.

"She couldn't care less about this right now, and if Peter really is sick, it'll be a long time before she cares about anything again. We're going to lose all our forward momentum on this. I don't want this whole thing to have been for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing," Annabeth said. "We got the base."

"*They* got the base," Donna said, absently fingering the brace on her left hand. "We didn't get anything. I'm sick of being someone else's excuse. This trip's gonna matter for something."

Annabeth furrowed her brow. "Hey, is your hand hurting? You keep messing with the brace."

"It's fine," Donna said. "Do you think we can get a little coverage out of them, just you and me?"

"I thought the president's staff was trying to snag the news cycle."

Donna gave her a sideways glance. "Then the president's staff should have come to Africa."

CUT TO: INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE

"I'm gonna have to go back down soon," Santos said. "I have my Kazakhstan briefing. Will you please promise me you'll stop beating yourself to death over this?"

"I never should have been there, carrying on like Princess Diana, while we both neglected our **son**!"

"Our kids have never been neglected a minute in their lives," Santos said gently. "Helen, I'm scared to death of this, too, but do you honestly think that * *anything* *we did or didn't do might have changed it? We don't even know for sure if it is something yet."

"I think you could have **told** me a little sooner!"

"I have had more than a few things on my plate; I don't know if you've noticed!"

"I'm so sorry, Matt, if being President means you don't have time to 'do the fatherhood thing' anymore, but no one elected me, and * *someone ** has to keep our kids as their top priority!"

Santos gaped. "I have to go," he said when he'd recovered the power of speech.

Helen sniffed.

He stopped at the door, fuming, but still feeling for her. "We don't even know for sure if it is something yet."

ACT 4

INT. JOSH'S OFFICE

Lou knocked on Josh's open door. "Got a minute?"

"How's the press work going?"

"Okay," Lou said as she dropped into a chair. "We'll be fine if we get the news cycle all to ourselves."

"Yeah," Josh kept typing. "Wait, is something happening?"

"Nothing new. The first lady's statement on the trip."

"That's off," Josh said.

"Since when?"

"Lunchtime, I guess. She's staying in the residence today, spending time with the kids."

Lou shook her head. "Then it's not off, she's just off of it. Donna's gonna brief."

Josh's head snapped up. "*Donna*'s gonna brief?"

"At 2," Lou said.

Josh shook his head. "Somebody's getting that wrong."

"One of our reporters got it from a press advisory from the first lady's office. Sent out just a little while ago."

"Lou, I had a conversation with her earlier. I *told* her we needed the news cycle."

"I'm just telling you what I know," Lou said. "We can't afford to lose coverage to the first lady's humanitarian mission, Josh. If we're going to expect the Sunday shows to boot their scheduled guests to put us on, we've got to turn the story this news cycle."

Josh slumped in his chair, eyes wandering to the picture of him and Donna on his desk. "We asked them to go. We sent them as cover for Vinick to do his thing under the radar, and now that it's happened, we're like the guy who goes home with a woman on the first date and never calls. They went to this children's clinic, and…" He smiled grimly. "These missions never work out like she plans."

"What does?" Lou shrugged. "I'm running out of time, Josh."

"What would you do to keep the cycle?"

"Other than ask them to back the hell off?"

Josh nodded. "We already did that."

Lou shrugged. "All it would really take is scheduling Lester's afternoon gaggle at the same time. If we say we're releasing new information about the base, they'll pack the room. Vinick's press conference was a hit."

Josh sighed dejectedly.

"What do you want me to do, Josh?"

He cast one last look at Donna's smiling picture. "Your job," he said. "Get it done."

"They're not gonna be happy."

Josh snorted. "You think?"

CUT TO: INT. JOSH'S OFFICE, 2:15 P.M.

He was slumped over a report on his desk when the door flew open with such force it almost startled him. "You are UNBELIEVABLE!"

"Hi, honey," he said sarcastically.

"What is the MATTER with you?"

Josh got up and closed the door to hall heavily while Margaret reached in and pulled the adjoining door to her office shut.

"Don't ever do that again," he snapped. "You wanna scream and yell and call me a worthless son of a bitch? Fine. God knows I'm in no position to deny any of it. But you can't do it in front of people, Donna. You'll completely undermine me."

She pointed a finger at him. "You moved Lester's briefing to decimate any chance I had at getting any coverage!"

"Lou moved it."

"But you signed off on it."

"Yes."

"You knew I was briefing and you signed off on it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That's what I'm paid to do."

"Screw your girlfriend over?"

"Advance the President's agenda," he said. "We got the base; we needed the news cycle. I told you that. Who tried to screw who over here?"

"It would have killed you to share just a little bit of the spotlight with the first lady?"

His heart twisted in his chest. "The first lady couldn't care less, Donna. The President told me about Peter. This was about you."

"This was about children in Africa who--"

"This was about *you* ," he said firmly, but gently. "You cared about the children, yes, but it was about you. You're not cursed, Donna, or whatever it was you asked me when you called from the plane. You had a bad day. You're not cursed. You don't have to try to salvage something out of it."

Donna huffed. "We'll lose any hope we have for coverage this week. You'll carry this through until the Sunday shows, and by then we'll have lost our newshook."

"You'll find another one eventually," Josh said. "This is the way it happens sometimes, Donna."

"This is the way it happens EVERY time!"

The significance of the comment wasn't lost on him, but he filed it away for later. "You'd do well to take your own advice about overreacting. You had a bad day. Brush it off. Start again tomorrow."

"Who's gonna care tomorrow?" she shouted. "No one even cares that I was there! It was all for nothing!"

Josh felt his heart twist again. "Where?"

"The…" Donna blinked. "Amiir." She took a few steps backward, then turned abruptly and opened the door.

"Donna."

She turned in the hallway to face him.

"Don't you mean no one cares the first lady was there?"

Donna turned on her heel and practically sprinted away.

CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY, WEST WING

Donna navigated the corridors quickly, scooting around corners and hallway meetings with an expertise born of practice.

She slid into the press corps bullpen mostly unnoticed. Everyone was on the phone or pounding away on their keyboards. She found him behind his desk finishing up a phone call. He waved her over with a smile.

"Donna Moss," he said as he hung up the receiver. "Fancy meeting you here."

"David," she slid into his guest chair. "We missed you at the briefing this afternoon."

"Sorry about that," he said, shuffling the papers on his cluttered desk to pull out the advisory. "They moved up the afternoon gaggle."

"I know. Listen, this would be a good feature story."

"This, the first lady's thing?"

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "How would you feel about an exclusive?"

"Donna," David leaned back in his chair. "The first lady's supposed to do humanitarian missions. That's what first ladies do. Where's my newshook?"

"Medical care for children is always timely," Donna said.

"Eh…" David shook his head. "We've already done the medical angle with the HPV vaccine. I need a new hook for this one. I'm happy to do it; just call me when you've got something."

"Okay," Donna could feel her heart pounding in her ears. "Then how about this. This was my second mission abroad. Gaza was my first. How about a feature spotlight on the dangers of doing humanitarian work in unstable countries? Springboard off of me into the first lady's work at the

children's clinic."

"Gaza? Donna…"

"You were all over me for an interview when it happened, David. I thought I was gonna have to take out a restraining order." She forced a smile.

"Donna…I'd love to do the children's clinic story with you later, but…Gaza was more than two years ago. Nobody cares anymore."

CUT TO: INT. JOSH & DONNA'S APARTMENT, NIGHT

Donna was in the chair by the window when Josh opened the door. Their eyes met, but they didn't speak at first.

"You're home early," Donna said after Josh had put his things down.

He nodded. "The president went back to the residence early to be with the first lady."

Donna nodded. "God, I didn't even call her before I left to see how things were."

"They don't know anything more. I think they just need to huddle up, figure out what they're doing."

Donna swallowed hard. "I apologize…*immensely*…for shouting at you at the office today.

Josh put his hands in his pockets. "No harm done. If necessary, I'm pretty sure Margaret will put herself between me and danger."

Donna quirked a corner of her mouth up. "That was inappropriate of me."

"Yes, it was."

She met his eyes again. "Yes, it was."

He went to the kitchen and began filling a Ziplock bag with ice. "Do you know where the wheels came off the wagon?"

"When I decided to do battle with the master?"

"When you decided you were the story." He settled himself on the ottoman in front of her and motioned for her to undo her wrist brace. "This isn't like the campaign, Donna. The first lady ceases to be the story when the president walks in the room."

"I know." She winced as he settled the ice on her wrist.

"It looks a little better, I think."

"Yeah." Donna closed her eyes. "You ever get this feeling, when you look back on your behavior earlier in the day, and...you're not exactly mortified yet, but you sense mortification creeping up on you from behind, and you wish like hell you could outrun it?"

"Every time I talk to a member of Congress."

She gave him a polite smile. "I cannot believe some of the things that came out of my mouth today. Not just to you." She pulled a hand across her eyes. "You weren't kidding when you said I was having a bad day."

Josh took a deep breath. "You know what we didn't talk about last night?"

"What?"

"That this was the second close call for you. We both thought about it, but we studiously avoided mentioning it, what with my tendency to overreact and your insistence that you're always fine."

Donna breathed out slowly. "I'm not fine."

"I know."

"I've tried and tried for the past two years to tell myself that what happened in Israel had some greater purpose. I've tried using it as an impetus to change myself, to change my career. I've tried to prove myself worthy of this cosmic second chance I've been given. The fact of the matter is, sometimes, these things just happen. Sometimes it's for nothing." She propped her chin in her hand. "I didn't want to let that thought in, but I can't ignore it anymore. And I'm not fine with it."

"It was *not* for nothing," Josh said, leaning forward on the ottoman and pulling her knees between his. "Gaza, much as I would have spared you that if I could have, set a lot of different things in motion that needed to happen, Donna. Putting aside for a moment the historic deal that the President brokered in its aftermath, you've completely reinvented yourself in the last couple of years. And the first lady's presence in Amiir gave Vinick the cover he needed to get the job done. I'm sorry you didn't get the credit after it was over, but we couldn't have done it without you. That was not a job for a rookie. We needed someone with some experience. That was you."

"I just wish I knew why *I* was the bad luck charm on these missions."

Josh rubbed a thumb back and forth across her knee. "Listen, this...this was so similar to last time, it's bound to throw you for a loop. A big one. It's bound to throw ANYBODY for a loop. If you wanted to talk--"

"I am talking." She furrowed her brow at him.

"I mean to someone else."

"I'm talking to you."

"But maybe you would feel better talking--"

"Would *you* feel better if I talked to someone else?"

"Y--no, I mean, of course I'm happy for you to talk to me, but I'm just saying in addition…" he trailed off, dreading the prospect of another shouting match. "I'm sorry. What was it you were saying?"

"Just that I have bad luck, especially when it comes to car rides in foreign countries that…" A dark look crossed her face.

"What?"

"Maybe...maybe I remembered something."

"*What?*" Josh whispered.

"I thought it was a dream...it happened on the plane, on the way back. I thought it was just, you know, a little nightmare, but--"

"You're having nightmares now?"

"Just a little...a thing on the plane." She sat forward, trying to recall the image that startled her out of a light sleep the previous evening. "Is that what it was?" she whispered to herself. "Not a dream? A memory. "

Josh swallowed the rapidly forming lump in his throat. "What was it?"

That seemed to pull her from her reverie, and he could see her try to mentally rewind to start from the beginning.

"We were in the car, and I slid out of my seatbelt…when I hurt my wrist."

Josh blinked at the sudden time shift. "Yeah…"

"We hit a bump. I don't know, ran up on a curb or something. And everything went flying, including me, and…I don't know, I was a little preoccupied because my wrist was killing me, but something started eating at me, gnawing at the back of my mind…" She trailed off and turned her face toward the window again, seemingly engrossed in the Georgetown traffic on the street outside. "I thought it was just nerves, but I slept a little on the plane ride back, and it wasn't until then that…"

"Donna," he prompted gently.

"I have never remembered any of it. Gaza. The car ride … I was interviewed twice by the FBI, and I was never able to remember anything more than bits and pieces from the stop at the checkpoint, all a substantial length of time before the accident." She closed her eyes. "I was in the backseat, the agents told me that when they interviewed me, but… I don't know what we were talking about when it happened, but I think I was saying something and then, all of a sudden, I felt a bump underneath us. A big one. Big enough to lift us off the ground. I mean, more than a little. It felt like we were way off the..." she knit her brows together as she stared, unseeing, into space. "I think maybe the car flipped."

Josh watched her, his heart pounding in his chest.

She moved her eyes to his. "Did the car flip?"

He weighed his options for answering, but eventually nodded. "You were wearing your seatbelt, which was one of the…the doctor told me that was one of the things that saved you, it..." he took a shaky breath and dropped his eyes to the floor, "minimized the head trauma when the car turned over."

Donna clapped her hand over her mouth and shook her head a little. "They screamed," she said softly. "We came up off the ground, and everyone screamed. I think I screamed too."

Josh swallowed hard.

"It's just…it's like a second. Just a flash. I'd never remembered that until last night. And now," she shook her head, "I can't remember any more."

"That's probably a good thing."

She looked into his eyes earnestly. "What do you know?"

"Some," Josh admitted. "Not all."

"Will you tell--"

"I don't want to talk about this," he laughed bitterly, his defense mechanisms kicking in.

"I do."

He met her eyes again. "Then you should. To someone who has the know-how to--"

"I don't want to talk about it like that, Josh, I just...I never remembered anything before, and I--"

"Donna." He dropped his head into his hands. "I think maybe one big revelation is plenty for one day. Ahkay?"

She leaned her head close to his. "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

He lifted his head. "Because I spent several days in hell. I came through it, but…Donna, I don't like to even *think* about it, much less…" He raked his hands through his hair. "Imagine the worst thing you've ever lived through in your life. And then imagine reliving it. I can't. Not looking into your face, not…when I think about what could've…what *almost*-- I don't want to let *that* in, Donna."

His body language drew her full attention toward him. She scooted forward, and smoothed his ruffled hair with her hand. "Know what else we didn't talk about last night?"

Josh shook his head, eyes downcast.

"Second close call for me. Second bad scare for you."

He looked up, his face inches from hers. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. "My best attempts at being devoted to you often manifest themselves as an almost psychotic possessiveness that has the opposite of the desired effect."

She slid her hand out from under the ice pack and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. "It's the thought that counts."

"It is?" She felt him smile into her shoulder.

"Absolutely."

"'Kay, then, last night, when I was making your life harder…" he pulled back to look at her.

"You were thinking nice things?" She played the game.

He nodded.

"Such as?"

"That I missed you?"

"That's good."

He grinned. "That I worried about you."

"That's nice."

He brought her uninjured hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "That I love you."

She leaned forward quickly and kissed him. "Then love me," she whispered.

CUT TO: INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE BEDROOM, NIGHT

"Helen, your not sleeping isn't going to do him any good."

"What do you suppose will?"

"I don't know yet. We need to wait until we know what we're dealing with."

"I'm sorry if I don't have your uncanny ability to turn my worry off at will."

"Hey," he sat up against the headboard beside her. "That is the second time today you've insinuated that I love our kids less than you do. I'm every bit as worried as you are, I'm every bit as guilty as you are, I'm every bit as scared blind, but I don't know what good we're going to be to either of them if we both go nuts."

Helen looked at him. "I never meant to insinuate that."

"Your comment about not having time for 'the fatherhood thing' anymore not withstanding."

Her face broke, and she laid her head on his shoulder. "God, I'm sorry, Matt."

He wrapped his arms around her. "We're gonna figure it out. We always do."

Helen was silent for a long moment. "I didn't realize we'd have so little time together as a family."

"Neither did I."

"Is this what you thought it was gonna be?"

Santos squeezed her tighter. "No."

"Me either."

CUT TO: INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S BEDROOM

"God," she drawled.

He pulled her closer to him. "I know."

"Let's never, *ever* fight instead of doing that."

"Mmm," Josh mumbled his agreement.

She fell silent for a moment. "You know what you told me once?"

Josh pulled himself back from the edge of slumber. "I've told you many things once."

"And more than once," she turned in his arms to tuck herself tighter against his side. "But you said something once about the things we let in. That those are the things that get under our skin, the itches we have to scratch. Those are the reasons we get things done. Maybe we *should* ignore them, and maybe it would be less painful to keep them at arm's length, but in the end, we're better off for letting them in."

Josh stared at the ceiling. "Sometimes I just say things to make you think I'm deep."

Donna dropped a feather-light kiss on his chest. "I can actually tell the difference. This wasn't one of them." She ran her fingers over his ribs. "I should try to let things in more. I don't know when I got out of that habit."

"You let in plenty," Josh said. "Or have you forgotten the world you're single-handedly trying to save? You're already eradicating cervical cancer and making sure kids everywhere have access to computers, and in your spare time, you're gonna make sure every child in the third world has medical care."

Donna scoffed. "I didn't do very much today."

"What did I tell you?"

"Start again tomorrow."

Josh glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Hey, look at that."

"What?"

"What time is it?" Josh asked.

Donna squinted at the clock. "12:04."

"Well, what do you know," Josh pretended to muse. "It is tomorrow."

FADE TO BLACK


End file.
